perhaps you remember the one whose moon-eyed lovers were reflected within the ringing gravel } none of them yet the maid of honor or a best man’s cattle, hogs, goats grunt in discomfort, sniffing the usual rounds without any drum healing wounds at least only to burn away { somewhere in the distance
Tag: Life
Yeah, cabin fever has kicked in
It had to happen, especially after the euphoria of last summer. The return of Covid only intensified it, especially when family and friends came down with it. A letdown was inevitable. The summer people are gone, and Eastport nearly resembles a ghost town.
So here we are.
Cabin fever. The winter blues. The blahs. Even if I weren’t up here living alone, building new friends I can’t quite drop in on yet. Zoom meetings go only so far. Ditto the radio. At least choir practice is resuming, even if we’ll still be doing it online.
Further dampening my spirit was finding myself stuck on breaking through on the next steps for the book. I don’t want to take up new projects till I see this one over the next few hurdles. So I keep nipping away at the edges.
Some nasty weather had me not wanting to leave the house at all, sometimes several days in a row. If only the place weren’t so cold, indoors and out. (And the fuel oil bill comes as a shocker, as does the electrical. Just for me, mostly.)
By now, I’m getting tired of my own cooking. There aren’t a lot of options up here that are better, either. One night I headed down to the brewpub for a cup of zesty soup or an imaginative panini by our resident culinary angels, aka Bocephus, only to find they’ve departed to his relations in Spain for a month. Well, they’ve earned that part and just might return with a supply of smoked paprikia for my wife. Fingers crossed. Otherwise? A boxed Newman’s Own pizza from the IGA managed to suffice.
Obviously, I’m not the only one under this cloud.
The high school actually had a Cabin Fever Week before their winter break, and since I’d be up there anyway for that hour of indoor walking ‘round the gym, I thought I’d follow along.
- Monday, for instance, had everyone wearing red, pink, hearts, something lovely. Xoxo. Well, it was Valentine’s Day. I could do that.
- Tuesday was “anything but a backpack” day for carrying books and gear. More of a challenge, considering the gray messenger bag that goes everywhere with me. My eyeglasses, emergency meds, and cell phone got stuffed in parka pockets. As for the kids? It was backpacks.
- Wednesday? “Wear your best flannel and/or camo. Let’s get real Downeast here, folks.” Now for me, that’s a challenge. My only flannel, apart from the sheets on the bed, was a shirt that’s rather black-and-white rather than the traditional plaid color choices. Forget the splotchy hide-from-the-enemy alternative.
- Dress for Success came on Thursday, “Come to school Interview Ready.” Gee, I haven’t worn a tie in how many years now? I do, however, still have some loud ones.
- The week ended with a school spirit activity. My version was having beloved company on the way up for the three-day Presidents’ Day weekend.
The arts center’s Sunday afternoon free series has been a lifeline – if only we could all take off nearby for more.
By the way, I was wrong about the last of those near-zero overnight lows. We’ve had a few of them return, but on the heels of some highs in the 40s and 50s. The trick is to not believe spring is just around the corner, even if you see a robin hopping around on repeated days.
What’s getting you through the depth of winter?
National parks I’ve truly enjoyed
I have to confess to how many of America’s national parks remain on my to-visit list. But I still have some favorites among the ones I’ve explored. They don’t have to be massive to still be impressive.
- Rainier, Washington: Most of all. It’s top of the list for reasons I’ve described elsewhere on this blog. Living a few hours away, I had four years of exposure to this glacier-clad beauty and its forests below.
- North Cascades, Washington: Geologically some of the most incredible mountains in the continental U.S., along with rewarding hiking and camping. Some of our best beat-era poets were forest fire lookouts on its remote summits in the ’50s and ’60s.
- Smokey Mountains, Tennessee-North Carolina: I was nine or ten or so when we ventured down from Ohio. We weren’t yet doing family-camping, but there were some wild experiences with cheap motels. But then, when we got to the park, how could I not be blown away? So this is what mountains were!
- Lowell, Massachusetts: I’ve blogged about our daytrip to this pioneering industrial community and its water-powered textile mills. Try to time it so you can also take a ride down the canals through the mills and out to the Merrimack River.
- Cuyahoga Valley, Ohio: This meandering swath of greenery along the Cuyahoga River in the former Connecticut Western Reserve corner of the Buckeye State is a touch of sanity within a populous region. It even includes some decent waterfalls. The Cleveland Orchestra’s summer home is nearby.
- Acadia, Maine: The rugged Downeast coastline starts here, more or less, and there’s nowhere else so much of it is available to the public.
- Olympic, Washington: It’s the heart of a unique realm worthy of a Tendril of its own, as well as a longpoem you can get at my Thistle Finch blog.
- Mammoth Cave, Kentucky: The world’s longest known cave system, only part of it is open to public tours, but what is shown includes spectacular geologic formations and chambers.
- Crater Lake, Oregon: It’s impressive but usually seen as an auto circuit around the volcanic crater of what was once mighty Mount Mazama. The lake sits at 6,178 feet above sea level.
- Everglades, Florida: To appreciate this ecological system, you need to take a guided boat tour into its vegetation and zoological wonders. This is the real Florida, almost surreal. Well, compared to much of the commercial development throughout the state, maybe a better adjective is needed.
~*~
There are many more, awaiting personal discovery. So what are your favorites?

When you wish upon a star
Back when I lived in the ashram (see my novel, Yoga Bootcamp, for a taste of the experience), I was surrounded by fellow monastics attuned to astrology. They never quite converted me, even while they gave me a respect for looking at individuals and events from any number of archaic and unscientific perspectives. Sometimes their observations were uncanny. Besides, how else do we get down to allowing for gut instincts or intuition, which at times proves truer than rational thought?
Not to rule out fact-checking and logic thought, but surfaces can be misleading and data, incomplete or in error. I can assert that from some very personal experience.
~*~
In the bigger picture, there were times in my life when nothing seemed to be happening and, then, whammy, everything fell together. Searching for a new job, for example, or sending out poetry submissions and getting only rejection slips for weeks or months before any acceptances, which came in a cluster from five journals on the same day. That sort of thing, on the road in sales, too.
As for the love life?
Look to the stars, right?
Among my New Year’s practices I began sketching out the upcoming astrological outlook as part my annual goal setting. Typically, the forecasts offered words of encouragement or even cheerleading. We all need that.
Sometimes they were reminders to look higher or jolts against continuing mindlessly in a rut.
They also countered those seemingly nothing days when I felt I was merely going through the motions, reminders that much was out of my hands, that all I could do was keeping sending out submissions or resumes, for instance, and be in place and visible when the current shifted.
Perhaps most important was the inner dialogue these prompted.
~*~
As examples? Consider one day, releasing “pent-up tension in the weeks to follow. You’re ready to plunge ahead with a project that has been on the back burner for months, or to finally take a big step toward freedom. However, you may encounter resistance from a worried partner. Serious negotiations may be the only way you can settle your differences.”
Or another, that “suggests that a close colleague or friend can assist you with this process.”
Uh-huh. I’ll have to dig into my journals to see what, if anything, happened on those dates.
Sometimes they were encouragements to polish up my appearance and image and self-confidence. At other times, warnings of a “wave of change, with unpredictable Uranus and transformational Pluto upsetting the order that you seek.”
Sometimes, the words seemed appropriate:
“Although you may be progressive in your thinking, Aquarius is a fixed sign, and you don’t always handle change easily. Unfortunately, the more you seek security by grasping at the status quo, the more sudden and shocking the changes will be. Above all, remember that during these hectic times, flexibility is your friend.”
That, or maybe a good therapist.
~*~
I’m not so sure how accurate my journal entries would be, by the way, especially when they track relationships. Did that old flame reenter my life during a retrograde? Did my flirty side offer opportunities for my love light to shine for a whole year?
What did I really learn? Don’t hold your breath.
~*~
More intriguing, though, is the two-year stay of karmic Saturn in a position to bring me “increased professional responsibilities and demands I work harder than ever before. … You get what you deserve – and if you’ve defined your goals and worked hard to achieve them, this can be the big payoff.” Well, it was accompanied by three big trines to balance “your dreams of material success with common sense and persistence to bring your ideas into reality. … This can be the culmination of many years of striving toward professional goals, which are now within reach. If you fall short, however, you’ll need to make critical decisions about whether to continue along the same path.”
This turned out to span the time I took the buyout at the office, began releasing much of my pent-up material on my new blogs, followed by my novels as ebooks. Neither the blogs nor ebooks had really been on my horizon, even though one novel had been released as a PDF edition by a pioneering digital publisher.
~*~
Revisiting these notes does feel unsettling. The practice simply faded away years ago, perhaps along with my big dreams. Or perhaps I had simply had it with so much of the gibberish.
Before leaving
discard piles of weekly magazine employment classifieds . dirty dishtowels, need replacing . ditto, the car . boxes stuffed with working papers, political reprints from college and later stint as academic editor . one more career detour, Swami . save file folders for reuse . don’t need any extra expenses now . former jobs, like former loves . what can you do at the moment? rat out pigeons from under the eaves, their smell of warm barn rot . dust and mop . Ajax or Comet the bathroom sink, tub, bowl . remake the bed after slippery sheets expose toes to night chill . clean the parakeet cage, heart yearning for its owner . how I’d love to trade that old English bicycle, with its flat tire and second gear that strips out, get a sleek ten-speed . instead, you need new blue jeans and pour a fresh motor oil in the Subaru . indoors, lay a wood fire but don’t ignite kindling, the coy display to signal a homebuyer . not all of the ash of this failure is mine
Is anyone else pestered by seemingly endless car warranty calls?
I’m assuming they’re robocalls, which I believe should be outlawed with horrendous consequences. Or even if live, rather than recorded, going for the throats of the higher-up perpetuators, rather than the poor offshore minions who actually speak into the phone from wherever.
But still, don’t they get the idea that I got the picture that they’ll never, ever, be this responsive if I pay up and ever need a repayment by way of a claim?
It’s an aging vehicle, after all, and will need some costly repairs. How much? The so-called insurance expects to be far ahead of any premiums in the long run, no questions asked.
Got any ideas on how to turn the table on this nuisance? My readers and I are all ears!
A quick take of my first year here
Whale watches, the ferry to and from Lubec, plus the Fourth of July, salmon, and pirate festivals were all fun. I even observed a beluga that lingered just offshore my first time out on the water here.
The island’s ten degrees cooler than the mainland in summer – I wore shorts only three times, all of them when I was off to run errands elsewhere. And supposedly the temps run ten degrees warmer in winter, though this house is still cold. We really do need to replace the windows and thoroughly insulate.
We missed gardening, apart from the little fenced-in patch in the front yard, but not the weeding, though the rabbits still happily devoured anything I brought in. Rather than squirrels as a menace, we have deer – especially when the wild apple tree starts bearing. They eat nearly everything in sight, including tomatoes, as I learned before reinforcing the rim of our little garden. Still, I nearly got a doe to eat a cookie from my hand one evening. My wife wasn’t so daring. And tomatoes? They really don’t grow well around here. But the oxeye daisies, basil, and lettuce continued merrily all summer.
None of the big renovations we’d anticipated got done. Contractors are booked out a year in advance, and the one we had lined up backed out before tackling the roof that our insurance company wants replaced pronto. Well, even if we had gotten started, prices on building supplies did more than double. We’re hoping they drop – soon.
Just looking ahead
Sunset years?
The stars beyond!
~*~
It really is a hint of eternity.
You might also want to check out some of the photos I’m posting at my blog As Light Is Sown.
Enjoy life to the fullest when we can.
Ten great loves in my life
What, you were expecting sexy lovers? That’s a whole different story, maybe best left for my fiction.
- Symphonic music. Well, quickly extending to chamber music and opera and then even jazz.
- Quaker practice and culture.
- The great outdoors. Wilderness, especially.
- The Cascades range as I explored it, most of all.
- Seafood, fresh asparagus, real tomatoes.
- The sea. Surf. Lighthouses.
- Holy wonder. The natural high, if you will.
- Autumn foliage.
- The soul mate who turned out to be false. She still haunts me, all the same. I think it was all the shared aspirations that really got me.
- The color blue.
~*~
What do you really love? Make that who, if you desire.
Dealing with the off-season in a tourist town
Come the first touch of chill here, and three-quarters of the population begins to vanish. Those folks quietly pack up and return to their primary residence, as have the many tourists. It rather reminds me of living in a college town, but in reverse.

The waterfront and downtown are no longer crowded and festive. Many of the stores, galleries, and eateries are closed up, as are the whale watch, water taxi, and passenger ferry to Lubec. By Halloween, roughly two stores, a diner and a restaurant plus a gallery or two remain open downtown, plus the IGA, two banks, and Family Dollar over on Washington Street.
It makes for a challenging business model, trying to pay the rent and all on a four-month retail prime time. Here the highly watched Black Friday, the make-it-or-break-it financial hurdle of American retailing, doesn’t wait till the day after Thanksgiving but probably hits sometime around the beginning of August.
I have to admire the entrepreneurs who manage it anyway, especially those who stay open through the slim volume of the two-thirds of the year when Eastport’s remote fishing village nature is most prominent.
It also means a lot of do-it-yourself involvement. If you want to see movies, you join the film society. Music? Pitch in with the choir or orchestra. Theater? You guessed it. Dining out? One of the neighboring towns must be having a church supper. Seriously.
And you turn out for others.
Yes, it means more work than just sitting on the sidelines, and with a small population, keeping things going can be a struggle.
But one thing I’ve noticed. It doesn’t take long to be appreciated when you take part.